‘Crow-street was set up,’ she harangued, ’to ruin the old house in the spirit of covetousness, you say’ (Puddock had not said a word on the subject;) ’well, covetousness, we have good authority for saying, is idolatry—­nothing less—­idolatry, Sir,—­you need not stare.’ (Puddock certainly did stare.) ’I suppose you once read your Bible, Sir, but every sensible man, woman, child, and infant, Sir, in the kingdom, knows it was malice; and malice, Holy Writ says, is murder—­but I forgot, that’s perhaps no very great objection with Lieutenant Puddock.’

And little Puddock flushed up, and his round eyes grew rounder and rounder, as she proceeded, every moment; and he did not know what to say—­for it had not struck him before that Messrs. Barry’s and Woodward’s theatrical venture might be viewed in the light of idolatry or murder.  So dumfounded as he was, he took half of Lord Chesterfield’s advice in such cases, that is, he forgot the smile, but he made a very low bow, and, with this submission, the combat (si rixa est) subsided.

Dangerfield had gone away some time—­so had Mervyn—­Sturk and his wife went next, and Cluffe and Puddock, who lingered as long as was decent, at last took leave.  The plump lieutenant went away very happy, notwithstanding the two or three little rubs he had met with, and a good deal more in love than ever.  And he and his companion were both thoughtful, and the walk home was quite silent, though very pleasant.

Cluffe was giving shape mentally to his designs upon Miss Rebecca’s L20,000 and savings.  He knew she had had high offers in her young days and refused; but those were past and gone—­and gray hairs bring wisdom—­and women grow more practicable as the time for action dwindles—­and she was just the woman to take a fancy—­and ’once the maggot bit,’ to go any honest length to make it fact.  And Cluffe knew that he had the field to himself, and that he was a well-made, handsome, agreeable officer—­not so young as to make the thing absurd, yet young enough to inspire the right sort of feeling.  To be sure, there were a few things to be weighed.  She was, perhaps—­well, she was eccentric.  She had troublesome pets and pastimes—­he knew them all—­was well stricken in years, and had a will of her own—­that was all.  But, then, on the other side was the money—­a great and agreeable arithmetical fact not to be shaken—­and she could be well-bred when she liked, and a self-possessed, dignified lady, who could sail about a room, and courtesy, and manage her fan, and lead the conversation, and do the honours, as Mrs. Cluffe, with a certain air of haut ton, and in an imposing way, to Cluffe’s entire content, who liked the idea of overawing his peers.

And the two warriors, side by side, marched over the bridge, in the starlight, and both by common consent, halted silently, and wheeled up to the battlement; and Puddock puffed a complacent little sigh up the river toward Belmont; and Cluffe was a good deal interested in the subject of his contemplation, and in fact, the more he thought of it, the better he liked it.